Page 30 of It Taught Me to Hope

T he question that kept returning to her mind was what Mr. Darcy saw in her . Elizabeth had never been under any illusions about the power of her allure. Jane was the beauty in the family, not Elizabeth, though she had always thought she was pretty enough. Mr. Darcy, however, regarded her with such reverence as to suggest that she was the most beautiful woman alive. How she could reconcile this Elizabeth could not quite understand, and at the moment she was not certain she wished to. Contrary to Elizabeth’s wishes, however, the gentleman did not hesitate to explain, interpreting an innocuous comment she made and extrapolating her meaning.

“You cannot still wonder as to my constancy, Elizabeth.”

Hearing her name from his lips for the first time unaccompanied by the honorific “miss” was significant, and Elizabeth could not help but blush at the new intimacy they had attained. The gentleman, it appeared, was not unaware of her reaction to his use of her name, for he regarded her with all the self-satisfaction she had once thought him capable. That thought was not palatable, and Elizabeth shunted it to the side for the moment.

“No, I have no doubt of your constancy. Yet I cannot but wonder how you came to admire me with such ardency.”

“You speak of more than just the past months,” observed the gentleman, ensuring he understood before answering. “Perhaps your question concerns our interactions when we first became acquainted?”

“Can you blame me?” asked Elizabeth with a helpless shrug. “We did not start on a good footing, Mr. Darcy, and thereafter I thought you the worst of men, and spoke to you intending to ridicule more often than not. Yet through all this, you developed an affection for me that has survived the intervening years and the infamous scene in Hunsford’s parsonage. It is a curiosity I have not reconciled.”

Mr. Darcy nodded though in clear distraction. They continued walking along the path toward the house in the distance while Mr. Darcy considered his answer. The gentleman’s response had somehow become critical to Elizabeth’s understanding, not only of Mr. Darcy but her response to him, and she allowed him to think without interrupting, certain what he would say would be of profound importance.

“Would it help you understand if I said you are the most exceptional woman of my acquaintance?”

Elizabeth regarded Mr. Darcy, feeling a wry smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “It would not help me understand, but I might wonder if you still possess your wits.”

The gentleman did not hold back the hearty laugh that begged for release. “Though I am older—and I hope wiser—than I was six years ago, to the best of my knowledge I am not yet in my dotage. Perhaps you might question my sanity, but I have had many years to consider you, and I have no hesitation in declaring it is nothing but the truth.”

The wonder at this gentleman’s view of her provoked Elizabeth to stop and turn to face him—there was no trace of anything resembling deception or exaggeration in his face or eyes. He appeared as serious as he ever had.

“You believe I am exceptional?” A playful thought entered Elizabeth’s mind and she added in a hint of daring impertinence: “I suspect there are several men, including the late Mr. Collins and the present master of Netherfield who would disagree with you.”

“ They have not been so fortunate as to provoke your regard.” Mr. Darcy’s smile turned tender. “Of more importance, they did not take the trouble to know and understand you, nor did they consider anything other than their wishes in their interest for you. This I well comprehend, for it was my initial failing as well.

“Trust me, Elizabeth, when I tell you that you are the most extraordinary woman of my acquaintance. I saw it from almost the first moment in your company, for even if I did not know it at the time, by the time I spoke of you at the assembly, I was already fighting my attraction for you in the misguided estimation that a woman of great fortune and standing in society was my destiny.

“The fact, however, is that you are their superior by every measure. Those women are brought up to believe in their superiority by the accident of birth and fortune, yet they behave in a way that cannot but provoke severe condemnation—in short, they care for nothing but themselves.

“You, however, are as unlike them as the twinkle of a star is to the fiery orb of the sun in our sky. I witnessed your true and generous character when you cared for an ill sister with no thought for your health and when you endured all Miss Bingley’s jibes and kept your good humor and did not treat her with equal disdain—”

Mr. Darcy stopped as a thought occurred to him, and he grinned, prompting Elizabeth’s response in kind.

“In truth, I suppose it is not correct to suggest that you did not return some of Miss Bingley’s rancor on her, but you did it with such good cheer that not even the woman in question could take offense—she did, but that is a detriment to herself and not to you. Your nobility of character is manifest in the way you care for everyone around you—your tenants, your sisters, and everyone within range of your influence cannot help but feel blessed by your excellent temper and the boundless optimism you betray. You display your exceptional qualities in welcoming a thoughtless gentleman who slighted you at your first meeting, insulted you with a most offensive proposal, and showed himself to be everything haughty and worthy of contempt.

“How I wish you could see yourself as I see you, Elizabeth.” Mr. Darcy raised a hand and touched her face, and Elizabeth, feeling the wonder of his words, leaned into his hand, never wishing to lose the exquisite sensations his touch engendered. “You are all of this and more, and I am most fortunate to have finally secured your hand. That is how I see you, Elizabeth. That is how I intend to cherish you all the days of our lives.”

Elizabeth could feel the burning in her cheeks, but she could not look away from his expressive eyes, so mesmerizing were they. That Mr. Darcy had harbored such feelings for her all these years humbled her and taught her a lesson about what it was to adore another and put their happiness before your own. In response to this heartfelt and awesome declaration, she did not feel like she could offer anything in return.

“I feel so inadequate,” said she at length. “You have praised me with such words that I scarcely know how to respond.”

“Every word was the truth,” averred Mr. Darcy. “Do not suppose you must reciprocate. Even at this late date I understand your affection is not the equal of mine. I am quite content to wait for that day when you can return my sentiments without reserve.”

“May that day come not a moment later than it must.”

“That is my wish.” Mr. Darcy captured her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. “Now, Elizabeth, I believe we have family members that must, even now, be waiting for our return, eager to learn of our agreement. Shall we return to the house?”

“At once, Mr. Darcy,” agreed Elizabeth. “I cannot wait to share everything with everyone we love.”

So, they set off down the path, and by the time they reached the house, they were laughing with abandon. The notion that Lady Catherine might not approve of such behavior crossed Elizabeth’s mind, but she could not repine laughing as Lydia had at fifteen. It was altogether a freeing sensation, and Elizabeth had always loved to laugh.

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“W ELL DONE, DARCY, AND , if I might be so bold, long overdue!”

Darcy, feeling the euphoria of the new engagement for which he had longed for so long could do nothing other than agree with his cousin, for his heart was too full for words. After returning to Breckonridge and informing his sister, Fitzwilliam—who had returned from a ride—and Mrs. Westbrook, they repaired at once to Longbourn to share the good news with all of Elizabeth’s family. Within moments, they were all gathered at Longbourn, Darcy seated next to his beloved, sharing congratulations, toasting the happy couple’s future felicity.

“It has been a long wait,” said Darcy, his gaze resting upon Elizabeth, reveling in the privilege he would soon have to call her his wife, “but I am ecstatic that I have achieved my happiness.”

“Pleased as I am by this announcement,” said Mrs. Hardwick, “I must say that I suspected how it would end the moment you appeared in Sir William’s parlor. You were too transparent, Mr. Darcy, for anyone with a modicum of sense to misunderstand your love for my sister.”

“It is wonderful that Lizzy has put aside her scruples,” added a laughing Mrs. Westbrook. “Lizzy’s stubborn nature is such that I might have supposed she would continue to deny herself this happiness.”

“Not at all, Kitty,” replied Elizabeth. “It was nothing more than learning the contents of my heart. Now that I know them, the decision was not in question.”

“Then it is well that you learned,” rejoined Kitty. “I always thought it would be a waste of your ability to love that you remained unmarried, Lizzy. Now I am pleased for your coming happiness, for you deserve it.”

“If we could only find similar happiness for our dear Jane,” said Mrs. Hardwick in a tone that contained more than a little teasing.

“I am quite content, Mary,” replied Mrs. Edwards, as unruffled as ever. “When I complete my mourning, perhaps I might have the good fortune to find a man who suits me. Until then, I shall continue as I have.”

“There has never been any possibility of your discontent, Jane,” said Elizabeth, smiling at her sister, showing the special regard the two sisters shared.

“And for that, I am grateful,” replied Mrs. Edwards.

Their celebrations continued for some time, and soon Hardwick joined them, heard the good news, and congratulated them, not stinting in sharing a few of his own witticisms of the inevitability of their union. Through it all, Darcy sat next to Elizabeth, their hands clasped together, neither caring one whit for the proprieties of the situation. They were both mature adults, flush in the first throes of requited love, and eager to begin their life together. Though they had yet to discuss the subject, Darcy had no wish for a long engagement, and hoped he could convince her to wed after only a few weeks, long enough only to convince her neighbors they were not marrying in haste because of indiscretion.

At length, however, the practicalities reasserted themselves, and they turned to more immediate matters. The first among these was the young girl who had suddenly appeared in their midst.

“Of course, we shall have Clara summoned,” said Mrs. Edwards when Darcy asked after her.

Several moments later, a maid led a young girl into the room by the hand. The girl—Clara Wickham said the letter accompanying her—appeared shy, but she approached the Bennet sisters and offered them each an embrace, showing her swift adjustment to her new situation. When she reached Elizabeth, Darcy’s new betrothed held her at arm’s length and turned to introduce her to Darcy, his sister, and Fitzwilliam.

“Yes, Darcy, there is no doubt about it,” said Fitzwilliam the moment he looked into her features. “She is Wickham’s child without a doubt.”

Darcy nodded, unable to speak for the shock of seeing Wickham in the features of a young girl of whom he had known nothing just that morning. The girl watched him, solemnity warring with trepidation and more than a hint of confusion. For a moment, as Darcy regarded her, he wondered if his previous words to Elizabeth were nothing more than the bluster of a man intent upon impressing a woman. Could he forget the past and care for Wickham’s child, putting aside all the evil that man had done to Darcy and those he loved?

Then reason reasserted itself and Darcy pushed any such thoughts away, extinguishing them forever. Whatever Wickham’s sins had been, and they were as countless as the sands of the sea, this child had nothing to do with it and had no more misfortune than to result from Wickham’s lust and many indiscretions. For a moment, Darcy wondered again if he might have had more success in locating Wickham than Mr. Bennet and Mr. Gardiner had he known of the business when it occurred. Knowing Wickham’s ways, his confederates, and something of his haunts as he did, Darcy knew it was possible. Such considerations were less than useless, so Darcy focused on the child before him.

“Hello Miss Clara. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

The girl cocked her head to the side, a gesture he knew well having observed it in Miss Elizabeth’s habits many times. “Mr. Darcy,” said she, her voice clear yet hesitant. “You know my Papa? I do not have a Papa.”

“Everyone has a Papa, Miss Clara,” said Darcy, cursing Wickham for the bounder he was. “The question is whether one’s Papa will show his child the love she deserves.”

Clara considered this. “My Papa?” repeated she.

“Yes, I know something of your family,” replied Darcy, though it was best to avoid pursuing this subject until Clara was old enough to understand and accept the truth. “That does not matter right now. My question to you is whether you would like to live with Elizabeth and me at my home in the north.”

Eyes flickering to Elizabeth, Clara asked: “Not home at Longbourn?”

“My home is in the north, and it is called Pemberley,” said Darcy. “If you wish, you may come to Pemberley where I shall act as your Papa, and Elizabeth shall be your Mama.”

The mention of such intimate family relations provoked a shy smile. “Mama sent me away and I have no Papa. I should like to have another Mama and Papa.”

“Then you shall have them,” said Darcy.

The girl stayed with them for some moments, then the maid took her hand to guide her back to the nursery. Before she departed, however, and in a bit of daring Darcy had not expected, she stepped forward and put her arms around his waist, then scampered from the room leaving a company of bemused adults.

“It seems you impressed her, Darcy,” said Hardwick. “I have not persuaded her to say more than a few words to me.”

“Are you certain you wish to take on her care, Mr. Darcy?” asked Mrs. Edwards, her eyes searching his. “Will it not cause difficulty given her connection to Mr. Wickham?”

“You say this after insisting that Mr. Darcy would act as he has?” demanded a laughing Elizabeth.

“I merely wish to be certain she will not be an imposition.”

“On the contrary, I think it the right course to take her to Pemberley,” replied Darcy, not faltering for an instant. “Wickham’s father had high hopes for his son’s future, as did mine. While I must suppose they both look on him with disappointment from wherever they are, I am certain they would wish me to raise her where Wickham was a boy and bring her up to be a credit to their memories.”

“It may be best to leave the name ‘Wickham’ behind forever,” observed Fitzwilliam. “The name does not provoke nostalgic memories in the district.”

“No, it does not,” agreed Darcy. “This is something I had already considered. Whatever name we give her, it should not be associated with Wickham at all. We should discover a name connected to the Bennets and use that instead, for it will remove any stigma from her birth.”

Elizabeth noticed Darcy’s regard and nodded. “William suggested we use Aunt Gardiner’s maiden name. It will be familiar in Derbyshire and has excellent connotations.”

“I am certain that Aunt will have no objections,” said Mrs. Westbrook.

Fitzwilliam regarded Darcy with curiosity. “Do you intend to raise Clara as a gentlewoman?”

“I do,” replied Darcy. “She is the daughter of a gentlewoman and the granddaughter of the man who held this very estate, passed down through generations of his forebears. The least we can do is raise her to the estate to which she has every claim.”

“That might cause problems when she is old enough to marry,” observed Mrs. Hardwick.

“If we are careful,” said Elizabeth, “we can direct her towards men who will not hold her origins against her.”

“That makes sense,” agreed Georgiana.

“Then let us call it settled,” decreed Darcy. “Elizabeth and I shall take Clara to Pemberley where we will raise her as a gentlewoman. We can consider the details later when we have had time to accustom ourselves to the situation.”

“That was rather... officious of you, Darcy,” said Fitzwilliam with a laugh.

“Not at all,” replied Elizabeth. “I have learned to consider Mr. Darcy’s ability to take charge of any situation and declare what must be done to be one of his charms.”

Darcy folded his arms and raised an eyebrow at Fitzwilliam; the entire company released their mirth, and the joyous atmosphere remained. To the surprise of no one, Darcy, Georgiana, and Fitzwilliam remained at Longbourn for dinner, staying far later than usual. Darcy had no wish to part from Elizabeth, and he was pleased to note that she returned the sentiment.

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“T ELL ME, ELIZABETH , what do you think of Fitzwilliam and Jane?”

Elizabeth, considering the previous days since their engagement as she was, noted Mr. Fitzwilliam sitting next to Jane in conversation, a sight that had become common these past days. The former colonel was a jovial man, one who was easy in company with all and sundry, but Elizabeth had seen nothing of particular regard between them, even if he seemed to prefer her company of late.

“As I recall, we have spoken of this before, yet I have no more insight than the last time we discussed it. It is apparent they find each other agreeable, but I cannot see any regard out of the common way.”

William nodded and considered Elizabeth’s assertion. “Fitzwilliam has also seemed to prefer Mrs. Collins’s company of late.”

“Do you now consider yourself a matchmaker?” asked Elizabeth, fixing him with a look of amusement mixed with affection. That affection came more easily to Elizabeth’s heart the more time she spent in his company, which was a blessing and a positive sign for their future felicity.

“Not at all,” was his calm reply. “I tried my hand in the opposite direction once and have no desire to attempt it again. I was wondering what you thought of it.”

Elizabeth regarded him with compassion. “You are still considering Mr. Bingley, are you not?”

Though Elizabeth could never have believed William capable of blushing, he proved her wrong, his face flushing with a slightly rosy hue. Charmed, Elizabeth put a hand on his and squeezed with affection.

“It is time for you to forgive yourself for that misstep, William. Should Mr. Bingley prove himself still interested in Jane and possessing more resolve than he possessed before, I shall welcome him as a brother without hesitation.”

“Yes, I know you will,” agreed William. “A part of me, however, cannot but suppose I can repay my debt to Bingley by giving him a chance with your sister at the very least. Then if he does not take it, that is his business.”

“If your cousin provokes her to love him before Mr. Bingley learns of her available status it will feel like a betrayal.”

The helpless shrug with which William responded told Elizabeth that her guess was near the truth. This vulnerable side of her new fiancé charmed Elizabeth; she did not hold back a smile, telling him everything about her still expanding regard for him.

“In this instance, I do not see how you can influence matters; thus, it is best to step back and allow others to determine their paths in life. If Jane esteems your cousin and he returns the sentiment, their happiness will be all that matters. There is no guarantee that Mr. Bingley still thinks of Jane even if your cousin does not take his interest to the next level.”

“With that, I cannot but agree.”

Elizabeth changed the subject, as much to distract her fiancé as anything else, though she knew she needed to discuss her news with him.

“I received a letter from my uncle, a response to my missive about Clara.”

William nodded, understanding the significance. “As I recall, you wrote to him to ask if he had any information.”

“Yes. As it happens, my uncle had a sliver of news, but not enough to act upon and suspect in the bargain. As I previously informed you, six months after my sister’s disappearance, he learned something of Mr. Wickham that suggested he had left England on a ship bound for the Americas. Of Lydia there was no word, for the rumor did not make any mention of Lydia traveling with him. Before she arrived at Longbourn, there was not so much as a whisper of Clara’s existence.”

“Now that your sister has sent Clara to you,” observed William, “that must give the lie to any notion that she traveled with him.”

“Which leads us back to the question of where Lydia has been all these years.” Elizabeth sighed and offered the gentleman a rueful smile. “The driver disappeared almost the moment he put Clara into Jane’s care, and she can tell us no useful information.”

After a moment’s pause, Mr. Darcy said: “Though it seems unlikely, we might gain more information if I hire some men to inquire after your sister or even attempt to follow the carriage’s trail. If we inquire quickly, we may discover something of its passage.”

It was a tempting offer, for though Elizabeth deplored Lydia’s behavior, she had often wished to know what had become of her sister. If nothing else, the knowledge would bring a dark era of their family history to a close, even if it was not a happy ending.

Two thoughts stopped Elizabeth. The first was her concern for Clara, who had developed no connection to her mother while under her care. The fault for that was Lydia’s, for not only could one not blame a child for such a failure, but Elizabeth well knew her sister’s thoughtless nature. Second, at this late date Elizabeth was uncertain it was best to learn of Lydia’s fate, for it was a chapter in their lives that until Clara’s appearance had closed, such that the sisters refrained from discussing it. To pursue Lydia’s disappearance again would be to open old wounds already exacerbated by Clara’s coming.

“It is best to allow the past to rest,” said Elizabeth at length. “Perhaps you might find Lydia, but I cannot suppose we will learn anything that we wish to hear. Let us allow the past to remain where it belongs, Mr. Darcy; I prefer to look to the future.”

“I cannot disagree,” said Mr. Darcy, offering a wry smile. “Some part of me wishes to confirm that Wickham is gone forever, but that is a selfish wish, indeed. As my future includes a life with you at Pemberley, I believe I shall count myself satisfied. Should Wickham appear as he often has, we shall deal with him then.”

“With, I hope, a measure of condemnation rather than compassion. Mr. Wickham has earned whatever punishment comes his way, and not only for his seduction of my sister.”

William nodded. “He will receive no succor from me, Elizabeth. Should he show himself again, I have enough to move against him and see him pay the price for his crimes. Of the utmost importance, I will not allow him to importune Clara or even learn of her existence.”

“Then we agree.”

“Indeed, we do. I hope you will continue to share your opinion with me, Elizabeth, for I value your insight.”

Elizabeth could not suppress the laugh that came to her lips. “If you suppose that I , of all people, will hesitate to share my opinion, you have misjudged me. Other than your excellent aunt, I cannot suppose there is anyone in England who is less likely to hold her tongue.”

“That is much of your appeal.”

“Perhaps it is,” mused Elizabeth, a sudden thought coming to her. “Would you believe that when Mr. Collins proposed to me, he suggested that your aunt’s position and authority would provoke me to ‘the silence and respect’ she commanded from everyone?”

William’s disgusted shake of his head spoke with eloquence as to his feelings for Mr. Collins’s silliness. “Not at all, considering my experiences with him. When he braved my displeasure in London, he made a comment to me that was not at all dissimilar.”

“Then Mr. Mason suggested that my behavior would be acceptable once his ‘excellent relations had taken me in hand.’”

“I no longer consider my first proposal to be your worst, Elizabeth,” said William, his dark look suggesting he was not at all diverted by Mr. Mason’s excesses. “In fact, I wonder at your tolerance for three such objectionable proposals.”

“Yes,” said Elizabeth, releasing her laughter. “I must agree that I have been most tolerant of all such haughty gentlemen.”

“If you wish, I shall exact retribution on the author of your third proposal.” William grinned. “Your first is beyond my ability to punish, while the second has, I hope, made amends.”

“There is no need,” replied she. “They are part of that past I mentioned earlier. And yes, you have made sufficient amends, Mr. Darcy. By my account, your second proposal more than made up for any deficiency in your first.”

“Then I am pleased, Elizabeth,” said William, raising her hand to his lips. “But remember I am now William to you. I hope we will never grow so distant that would render ‘Mr. Darcy’ preferable.”

“I am determined we shall not,” said Elizabeth.

“We shall be the happiest couple in existence.”

Elizabeth believed him. Against all odds, despite years separated and angry words that held them apart, she now knew William was the man who best suited her, the man she loved. Perhaps her feelings were not the equal of his, but Elizabeth was determined they would be. Until the end of her life, she would do her utmost to meet him with as much affection as he felt for her. Elizabeth never allowed anything to get in her way when she set her resolve.